


are you finished with those?

by poltie



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 1d, High Character, M/M, diner au, harry is PROBABLY wearing gucci here lbr, intoxicated character, larry stylinson - Freeform, my first time writing one direction dont be mean lmao, one direction - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-11 02:23:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15305343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poltie/pseuds/poltie
Summary: harry liked to believe that he was a patient man.(or where niall stands harry up at a diner and harry is left to care for a louis too stoned to function)





	are you finished with those?

**Author's Note:**

> hi! follow my main tumblr blog (@ itspoultie) and my one direction blog (@ wellingtonkurse). this was my first time writing for 1d and i really enjoyed it so FUCK expect some new stuff soon? leave comments with constructive criticism because god knows i need it. also leave requests? thank you for reading it means the world <3

Harry liked to believe that he was a patient man. Servers? Take your time! He could wait to eat. Customer service representatives? He knew they had more on their plate than just him needing to unlock his phone when he forgot his password. Niall Horan? If Niall said that he’d be there in twenty minutes, then Harry could order a four course meal and still have time left to spare before Niall actually got out of bed. His frustration was valid, he believed, because his best friend was the least punctual person in the galaxy and there was nothing anybody could do to help it.

That was why Harry was currently sitting in the booth of a diner with an empty milkshake in front of him, fiddling with the straw. And while he knew that the servers couldn’t care less regarding how long he stayed, Harry felt imaginary glares on his back as if he didn’t deserve to take up an entire booth with just a milkshake.

He supposed that the imaginary glares were right. So Harry flagged down a waiter and asked for an additional order of fries that, if for nothing else, he could use to decorate the table. At ten o’clock at night, he had no qualms about waiting for the food to arrive since he had nothing better to do. He wouldn’t want to club by himself, since Niall would likely cancel on him at this rate. But Harry didn’t believe in just ordering a milkshake at a diner unless you share it, so he felt his purchase necessary.

The waiter had informed him that since the diner hadn’t anticipated anyone ordering fries this late―Harry believed this to be true, considering the diner was famous for its shitty fries―he would have to wait about fifteen minutes for them to be ready. Harry thanked him, checked out his ass without exactly meaning to, and settled down to people watch.

The old lesbian couple in front of his booth was quite dry. They worked together on what appeared to be a three dimensional puzzle, which appeared rather difficult, but didn’t speak to one another at all. Harry couldn’t make up hilarious conversations between them by reading their lips.

There was a beautiful girl with an equally beautiful friend across the diner, laughing with each other over something on their phones. Harry would entertain the feeling of irritation that blossomed in his head, but he knew that they were having fun and he would be just as loud as they were had he a friend present at the table, too. But since Niall was a piece of shit when it came to time, Harry was unable to be the annoying young adult he should.

Just as Harry closed his eyes to finish his wait time, the bell tolled above the door and then a tune rang out over the speakers. He looked up to see a man just a tad bit older than he scuffing his white shoes on the tiled floor. He rubbed his face as he walked past Harry, who couldn’t help but smile at the way his sweatpants seemed to be backwards.

“Tommo!” whooped someone from behind the counter. “Jazzed?”

Harry watched as Tommo sat in the booth right behind Harry and laid his head on the table. “Fuck you, Liam. Maybe you’re right.”

At the thunderclap of laughter that came from across the diner, Tommo blew air out of his nose as a response and shifted so that he lazed against the window and let his short legs hang off the booth. His eyes were still closed, so Harry stared without shame.

Tommo’s skin was tan, almost the same color as the highlights in his hair. While his sweatpants were backwards, they didn’t take away from the confidence that emanated from the man. He seemed to be able to capture the diners’ attention while not even trying to. It was either his beauty or the cloud of pot smoke that almost followed him in.

“Here you go, sir,” a voice said.

Harry turned back around to his own table and blushed as the waiter grinned at him, having caught him staring. “Thank you, sir.”

Halfway through his fries, twenty minutes later, Harry’s phone buzzed and he eagerly picked it up, hoping to high heaven that it was Niall announcing he had arrived. But all Harry was given was a See you in an hour, got caught up w Zayn sorry heheh.

And although Harry was still starving and frustrated that he had to wait even more time, he didn’t want to snake Niall out of ordering his usual ten tons of greasy food, so Harry told himself that he’d savor the rest of these fries for the next hour so that he’d still be able to wolf down food with his best friend.

When his phone confirmed that his text of fuck you, and stop fucking him for four seconds had sent, Harry went to put it down on the table when a voice behind him piped up.

“Are you finished with those?”

Harry jumped and turned around so fast, another bunch of hair escaped his bun. The lad that had walked into the diner stoned off of his ass was hanging over the glass that separated each booth, his eyes lidded. His beautiful, blue eyes lidded. They looked especially godly along with the red that decorated his scleras, and Harry got so distracted with this newfound discovery that he forgot to answer the question.

“Hey, mate, are you finished? Mind sharing?”

Harry remembered himself and closed his mouth. His hand decided, using its own mind, to wave over Tommo so that they could share a booth, all possibilities of serial-killer potential aside.

“Thanks. Bit off it. Left my wallet at home, along with my head,” he said. He picked up a fry and immediately his eyes rolled back as he tossed it into his mouth. “Shit,” he muttered.

“Uh… I’m Harry?” Harry offered. He wondered how he must look to this guy. Harry had on the skinniest jeans he could find, the shirt that made his eyes pop, and the shoes that made him look like a top. Meanwhile, this guy was stoned as could be with his pants on backwards.

“Louis,” he said. Harry raised his eyebrows at the sudden name-change, and used it as a conversation starter. He would start a thousand conversations with this hot ass guy.

“Who’s Tommo, then?”

Louis gave a great big laugh at that, and Harry saw stars. “Ah, you heard! Liam’s a dick for that. I was just trying to get to a safe place where… I could… safe.” Without warning, Louis gives a dopey smile and puts his chin in his hands, staring at Harry.

Harry, for his part, didn’t faint from too much blood rushing to his dick at once. “Pardon? You good?”

“Oh yeah,” Louis murmured. “I think my edibles just kicked in.”

While Harry wasn’t as big on the drug scene as Louis appeared to be, he was certain that one shouldn’t smoke enough pot to stink up a diner along with eat more than one edible if they wanted to remember their name. “I think you’re shitfaced.”

“Oh yeah,” Louis murmure again.

“How are you getting home?” Harry asked, leaning forward.

Louis laughed through a mouthful of fries and ketchup. “I leave that to god.”

Harry knew that Louis was only half aware that Harry was sitting with him, so he took his time to come up with a response. Was Harry already smitten with this pothead? Yes. Was Harry able to do anything about helping him get home? No, because Niall was hopeless but couldn’t come to arrive to a diner void of Harry. Was Harry going to die because of the way that Louis was looking at him right now? Fuck yes.

The cards all seemed to agree that Louis needed help not dying tonight, and Harry was too gay to refuse his fate.

“Alright, mate, here’s what we’ll do,” Harry said, unlocking his phone. “I’m calling you a Lyft right now. What’s your address?”

Louis, instead of saying it like a normal person, spelled it out. Harry thanked whatever was above because they both lived so close.

“I don’t want to leave, doll,” Louis whined, despite having already given his address.

Harry stopped typing just long enough to look up at Louis and curse him for being so attractive and for calling Harry a doll. Then, when he looked back at his phone at what the driver sent and cursed.

“Louis, we can’t Lyft you home. They don’t accept card and that’s all I’ve got, since Niall―my mate, I mean―pays for our nights when he’s late. And he’s late as all hell now, and you don’t have your damn wallet, and so I can’t get you home.”

Louis licked his lips as he thought. Well, pretended to think. Harry could hear him singing some children’s song under his breath.

Harry liked to believe he was a patient man. But when an extremely attractive guy who he’d love to have inside of him doesn’t seem to be able to care what happens to him while under the influence, Harry gets rather frustrated.

“Louis, I think you’re rather attractive and all, but if you’re going to sit down in my booth, get the munchies for my fries, and waste my time by acting like you’re invincible just because you’ve eaten a couple of brownies, I’m going to… I don’t know. I’m going to riot―or something.”

Louis, for whatever reason, hands a fry to Harry. “It’s sweet that you care about me, Harold. Do you think that some dirty old man will hurt me because I can’t fight back?”

Harry pursed his lips. Getting overly angry at some guy who he hadn’t known an hour ago was pointless, even if he wanted to suck his dick. “It won’t be some dirty old man that hurts you, it’ll be me because I’m going to―oh, fuck,” Harry read Niall’s text and a headache immediately blossomed in the front of his skull.  
“Scratch that. I won’t do anything except get those fries in a to-go container and take you home in a second. Hang tight.”

Harry’s screen blinked as he tossed his phone onto the table, the Sorry sorry it just cant happen tonite text from Niall glaring. Louis rested his head on the table and sighed happily. A cute guy was caring for him, and all that was going on in Louis’ head was a shitton of screaming that he knew was coming from his sober mind. What the fuck are you doing, making a tweaker dick out of yourself in front of this angel? Why aren’t you explaining yourself? Why aren’t you offering to pay him back for the fries? Why do you think he cares about the fries?

It turns out Harry did care about the fries, but not in the way Louis had thought. Just five minutes later, Louis was slumped in the passenger seat of Harry’s Ford Focus with the box of fries on his lap, LOUIS scrawled across it.

“Tell me your address again?” Harry mutters as he backs out of the lot. His knee bounced as he forced himself not to look at Louis.

Louis rolled his head to the right so he could stare at Harry. “I think you and I both know you memorized it.”

The car didn’t crash, much to Harry’s chagrin, because he would have loved to die in that moment. Had he been that obvious? Stared at his lips too much to be considered heterosexual? “Huh.”

Louis giggled. Actually giggled, and Harry was really falling for this guy. It was obvious by the way his eyes ghosted over Louis’ body every few seconds, despite having told himself that he would keep them on the road the whole time.

“Harry, if I weren’t off my ass right now, I’d like for you to ravish me right here in front of this stop light.” To punctuate this confession, Louis stretched and made sure to let out a little moan that made Harry’s throat dry.

“I’m glad that you realize that you shouldn’t be doing anything sexual while you’re intoxicated,” Harry says quietly.

“Sexual. Intoxicated. So proper. Just say I shouldn’t be fucking while I’m shitfaced, Harold,” Louis laughed again. “You seem old enough to swear, though you may not look it.” They pulled up to Louis’ apartment, and he hummed. “And if you’re old enough to swear, you’re old enough to let me tear you a new one. Not that little fifteen year olds that are old enough to cuss should have sex with me. I’m just coming on to you. And you should definitely take advantage of this tomorrow night. Or morning. I’m free all day. So really. Here’s my number.”

Harry sucked in a breath as Louis grabbed his hand to write his number with the sharpie he’d grabbed from Harry’s glove compartment. In addition to the numbers, pitifully written in a slanted, skinny handwriting, were two X’s. When Harry looked up to confirm that he’d call, he was interrupted by Louis’ lips smashing onto his and almost rose out of his body.

It was a fleeting thing. Louis was out the door just as fast as he had stolen the kiss. He poked his head through the window and smiled. “Thank you. I’m not a patient lad. Surely you’ve noticed by now. See you tomorrow. Bring the fries, not your designer clothes.”

With that, Louis reached through the car and patted Harry’s cheek and left, an apparition.


End file.
